


children of violence

by thetormentita



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fluff, Sort of AU, Swearing, not pleased with how troy's arc was handled
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27213769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetormentita/pseuds/thetormentita
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dearestwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearestwinter/gifts).



Is it over? Maybe. Possibly. Definitely. A small group of dead is almost there and she has nothing to defend herself or nowhere to hide until the danger has passed. She ducks against a half demolished wall and starts to mumble a prayer before remembering that no God would have allowed a catastrophe like that to happen.

The sun shines over the razed village, and she is too tired to go and search something, even if it's just a frying pan or something remotely simillar to try and make it for another day. What seemed to be a pretty nice place to seek shelter had turned to a mere illusion, with all the houses empty, almost no food there and even less water around, what caused her to yell a blasphemy and the quiet surroundings were filled with those beings ready to get her.

For a moment she hears nothing. Complete silence. Not even birds or any other animal that could be around, and that freaks her out. More than having the dead chasing her. She raises her head more because of her instinct than for something rational and the sudden noise of ammunition being shot scares her, making her jump around three inches from where she was hiding, and after what doesn't last longer than half a minute the silence returns. She frowns and gets up when voices can be heard, and she puts her head out of the wall to see four men, all of them armed, checking the corpses and taking things that can be useful: any jewels or items, boots in case there's any of them not barefoot. She observes them, curious, wondering who are they and why are they there: two of them taller than the others; a blond, a redhead and two brunettes; all athletic and not precisely dressed to have lunch at the most expensive restaurant of the state of California.

When one of them, the blond, suddenly turns to face her and aims at her with his gun, her heart skips a beat as both their gazes meet.

"DON'T SHOOT!"

She appears from behind the wall with both arms raised, still looking at the blond man, blinking only the necessary. Her chest goes up and down quickly, despite her efforts to keep herself calmed.

“I’m alive, a human. Please don’t shoot, please don’t shoot.”

The blond approaches her, slowly. A step. Another one. Silence again. His blue eyes observe her, with curiosity, almost like a child with something new between the hands. He wrinkles his nose and lowers his weapon when he sees she’s unarmed.

“Are you alone here? Is there somebody else with you?” she shakes her head and for the first time ever she realizes her knees are almost trembling “Come with us. In the Ranch you’ll have a proper place to sleep, proper food and you’ll be safe —at least safer than here outside.”

The rest finish checking the place and approach them, and she can observe them better. The eldest of them would be around 35, all prepared like a sort of militia and ready to fight til their last breaths. For a moment she lets herself think if it would ever be a good idea to follow them, but the perspective of eating something remotely nice manes her stomach growl, so she decides to go with them to their car.

“What were ya doin’ alone there?” asks the driver, and for a moment she wonders if they are remotely serious.

“Well, I was knitting you fucker a pullover. What d’you think?”

That makes the four men laugh, and she can’t help but chuckle after taking a deep breath, observing towards the windows of the vehicle, like if she was trying to recognize anything on their way.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s always like this” the blond’s chuckles are light, amused and kind, trying to make her feel comfortable “He’s Costa, the dude next to him is Duke, my friend here is Jimmy and I’m Troy” he gives her his hand, almost trying to ease things.

“Kate. Kate O’Leary.”

“O’Leary? Are you related to the mob, sweetheart?” The big man known as Duke turns to face her, with any sort of interest.

She nods. Why trying to avoid that part of her life now the world had ended?

“Yeah. My greatgrandparents, in New York.”

Before she can even imagine they reach the entrance of the ranch, and she lets herself pop her head out through the window to observe the place as Costa drives them down the hill, slowly enough to avoid any slipping on the mud and to let her admire for a moment the first trace of civilization for weeks. The car stops slowly by the gates, and two armed men approach them as the four windows of the vehicle go down.

"Fuck, Joe, what did you do this time?" a sort of smile curves Troy's lips as he leans over Kate to talk to one of the guards, armed with a tommy gun pointing at the floor "The coast is clear, and this lady here will stay with us" she blushes and opens her eyes wider as the blonde talks, with a big calloused hand almost bruising her thigh in what seems to be an unconscious movement.

"Does she know the rules, dudes?" the man behind the beard asks almost engraving her features on his mind, which makes her feel uncomfortable and almost hide against the door and Troy's body.


	2. Chapter 2

She throws a not precisely pleased look at the doctor when he tells her to take off her t-shirt, but when she remembers where she is and sheepishly takes off her jacket and then the quite ragged t-shirt, leaving a bust adorned with old and new scars, just a few, as the medals for her fight.

“Could you please do it quickly, Doc?”

As the man starts to exam her, another one knocks on the door and opens it. With her clothes by her side, she observes the newcomer with a mix of curiosity, sickness and fear. He takes his cowboy hat off as some sort of salute and puts it on again, introducing himself as Jeremiah Otto. Kate thinks that he must be a big fish there if he goes there just to meet her, and wonders about him as she tends her hand to him.

“Kate O’Leary, sir”

“Irish?”

“Yup, my grandpa’s parents were from Ireland.”

Jeremiah’s eyes are fixed on hers, as if he wanted to not lower his look to her cleavage, imposing himself to give an example.

“Have the boys told you about the rules and customs here, miss O’Leary?” she nods as the Doctor checks her breathing and her pulse.

“I have no clue whatcha talking ‘bout, but I’ll respect all of you, find a place where I can be useful here and don’t cause havoc if that’s what worries you” for a second she forgets about the doctor and the coldness of the stethoscope makes her flinch.

“Please be quiet for a moment”

Another figure awaits at the entrance, and smiles at her, like ignoring the fact that only her bra covers the naked flesh of the higher part of her body. She smiles softly and all of them wait for the end of that process.

"How is she, doc?" the old man flinches and Kate fights to control a giggle "It's about lunch time and I bet fifty bucks our new friend here is starving"

She looks at Troy and for a moment a sort of spark crosses his eyes. He is eager to talk with her, and too many ideas about him cross her mind, both good and bad ones. She bites her lower lip and takes a deep breath before turning to face the ranch's doctor, who rules that she is slightly dehydrated.

"Sir" her eyes find land on the eldest of the men there, with a sort of mix between haughtiness and decision on her look "If the boys want, I can work with them in the militia. I have used a gun once, maybe twice, after the outbreak but I’m a quick learner” unconsciously wrinkles her nose “And I don’t like to cook and that.”

“She wouldn’t be the first woman with us, dad. Some fresh air is always good, and we haven't even dared to touch her” he raises both hands and she nods, shrugging her shoulders.

“I played the piano before, pretty good, actually. I wanted to be a pro and tour around the world with great musicians and play a duet with Lang Lang. I just tried to survive until Troy and the lads came and saved me”

She raises an eyebrow and Jeremiah chuckles. When he greets her lowering the brim of his hat, he and the doctor leave and Troy smiles, leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets at the sides of his pants.

He looks cocky, confident and sure, pretty sure about himself, but there is something in his look that doesn’t match his attitude. 

“A musician, huh? A pro.” a smile curves his lips, and she wants to believe it is a sincere one “That’s cool. I’m sure that Lang Lang rocks, but he doesn’t have your guts.”

He approaches her just a pair of steps, still with that careless pose and the fact that his eyes hasn’t go down past her face makes her think, even wonder, if he is just trying to be a gentleman or he isn’t remotely interested in the femenine sex, making him more interesting.

“When’s lunch time here? I’m starving” she drives a hand to her stomach, and he approaches her even more.

She flinches to the bruise of two fingers against her cleavage along with a murmur asking for permission to see the medal half hidden between her breasts, and her eyes go down to see the piece of silver shining against his digits.

“Saint Nicholas of Bari?” she nods with a hum, softly, as the tip of his index finger traces the silhouette of the saint engraved “I thought you said you were an atheist, Katie”

“It’s my greatgrandma’s” she turns it, letting Troy seeing the reverse and notices goosebumps on his arm’s skin when they touch “Alana M. She was Irish. It was a gift from her stepdad.”

“Patron saint of kids, sailors, the falsely accused, unmarried people and prostitutes” their gazes meet and she sighs, glad to feel such warmth after weeks of horror and chaos.

"Thought you didn't care about religion"

He smirks and looks at her for a moment. It's more than obvious that he is eager to do something else instead of standing there with the chance of somebody coming into the infirmary, but for some reason Kate can't imagine in that precise moment he moves slightly, just enough to be between the entrance and her, possibly to cover her from unwanted looks.

"You seriously wanna join the militia?" she nods, allowing herself to put a hand on his chest, craving for proximity "You wanna stay here?"

"Why not?" their gazes meet and Troy's blue eyes spark silently.

"I'm not a bad person"

"Nobody says so"

"Some people do" his voice lowers again, and his eyes go from hers to the medal, still between his fingers.

"Fuck'em. Let's go to eat something" she takes her t-shirt and puts it, the medal slipping from Troy's hand.

With a promise from him that she won't regret her decision, Kate lets the blond guide her to the sort of tent where everybody eats, and during their way he asks her about her music studies, her own frustrated plans and San Francisco, her hometown. As she talks, he looks somewhat relieved, even enthusiastic, and she can't help but find it adorable and wondering what drives him.

When they get their trays, dozens of eyes are fixed on her, and she just takes a deep breath and starts humming on her mind, following his steps. It promises to be such a show.


End file.
